


The Enemy Always Seeks

by Lunartosolar



Series: Lives of the Dúnedain [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cellars, Children, Cold, Community - Freeform, Dúnedain - Freeform, Gen, Healing, Historical Accuracy, Horses, Irish Wolfhounds, Livestock, Orcs, Sindarin, Winter, Wintertime, blizzard, food preperation, friends - Freeform, grains, harvesting, or may not be accurate because some things may be lost through time, pests, remote villages, winter preperation, wood cabins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunartosolar/pseuds/Lunartosolar
Summary: A look into the harsh winters the Dúnedain faced. Without the comforts of modern times, what did life look like back then with the enemy afoot and searching for Aragorn? A look into Halbarad's family.
Series: Lives of the Dúnedain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142387
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. It begins

**Author's Note:**

> Another story because this muse hit during the Northeast giant blizzard. I tried to do a lot of research, but if something doesn't seem right, either comment or message me. I chose the Dúnedain because I find a lack of fanfictions. It was said that the Dúnedain often went on patrols and orc raiding with Elladan and Elrohir, so it could have been feasible that they would be by villages, where Aragorn would go. In this, Gilraen is still alive and left for her village after Aragorn reached adulthood. Time frame is after Aragorn learns of his title, and goes into the wilds with his brothers, and before the time of the one ring.

Wintertime was harsh for much of Middle Earth, and particularly hit the remote villages of the Dúnedain **.** Since help would be days away, and the paths between settlements already frought with danger from orc attacks, and the fear of leading evil to their hidden places, travel was only used in emergencies. 

Fall and the turning of winter was no easy time for the Dúnedain. They had much to prepare with harvesting and storing crops for the time when the ground would freeze. Both fruits and vegetables would be either pickled or preserved with the exception of potatoes, which could last long periods in the cellar, below the den floor, which would need to be cleaned out and inspected for any invasive bugs or pests that could spoil the crops. Preventive measures would be laid around the ground inside, to further ensure nothing would ruin the food supply. The cellar was hidden beneath the woven carpet, where any draft would be unable to penetrate the tight fabric.

Meat was cured and much either turned into dry jerky that could be boiled and regain some softness to add to a stew or dried, and stored in the deepest depths of the cellar, where the ground was the coldest, and the meat would stay frozen and unspoiled. Harvested grain, rice, and potatoes were put in cloth sacks, and stored in woven baskets. The herbs to keep away insects were laid in both the basket and around, the pungent smell sure to repel the most invasive of critters. 

The cellar was thoroughly looked through for any cracks, crumbling sides, or holes from mice, or rabbits who would enjoy the store of food. Once that was done, a designated firewood area was made, where excess wood unable to be stored in the barn or beside the fireplace would go. It was always better to have too much, rather than too many, when the lands turned harsh and unforgiving, where in a quest to cut firewood for a non existent supply would turn into a fight for your life. Blizzards were common, and brightly colored reinforced twine was needed to guide you home when visibility was zero. To get lost would be a death sentence.

All hands were needed, including smaller ones for light tasks. The families in the Dúnedain were bigger, with three children or more commonplace, since so much manual labor was needed to prepare. Children as young as 4 would entertain one another to avoid being underfoot, being given small jobs, like collecting small stones to use in warming the bed on cold nights and making a game out of it so they would be motivated, and avoid temper tantrums. The older children would be assigned things appropriate such as assisting in sealing cracks in their notched wood cabins, or drying herbs, and corralling siblings. They had a hand in helping their younger siblings, teaching, as the parents had a lot to contend with, running a household, and the surrounding land. 

Weapons were both sharpened and oiled, hid around various spaces in case of an orc attack, or wildlife trying to catch chickens for their own meals. Several were stored in the cellar, and space prepared in case of an attack where fleeing with the children was not an option, instead hiding them, where the orcs would not notice, too greedy and intent on causing destruction. There would be need of that for Halbarad’s family and surrounding homes, for the enemy was intent on finding Isilduir’s heir, one village at a time.

It started with the sun disappearing behind clouds, and the sky turning a sickly grey color over the span of a few days. The wind, already chilly, picked up turning temperatures colder. The Dúnedain, already anticipating a fast onset of winter, and prepared for what was to come, did everything they could. It is not easy when a father is away, one with duties to assist Aragorn, and being his kin. The evil will find, and destroy whatever they can.. 


	2. So the story begins...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, more groundwork into the everyday life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brenioril- to survive  
> Carwegon- “Active/Busy”  
> Aleth- Good/Blessed/Fortunate  
> Sell- daughter  
> Nana/naneth- mother/mom  
> Brenioril is the second oldest, (15 in our years, but Dúnedain age of 20ish) her brother being the eldest mentioned not by name in the chapter, Carwegon is next (age 7 in our years, 12 in Dúnedain years) and Aleth is the current youngest at the age of 3 in our years (6-7 in Dúnedain years) It is canon that the Dúnedain age slower, and appear younger. Hell, in the LOTR period Aragorn was 80 something.   
> Some of this may not be canon or loosely interpreting it, but in this Elrond extended his help, and some elves join up on patrols with the Dúnedain, with what we already know, that Elladan and Elrohir rode with them. The Dúnedain do speak Sindarin and with Westron, in this story they can speak both fluently.   
> The dogs I've pictured being like Irish Wolfhounds. I'm not sure on the canon for this but it makes sense due to the dog's noses and scents, that they would assist in tracking and alerting to any potential dangers.   
> Stay safe everyone. Wash your hands and wear a mask (or two)!

Brenioril woke to a lick on her face and a dip in the bed as one of the hounds jumped up on the bed and was standing over her, licking. She grumbled and willed herself out of the bed, shivering as her thick stocking clad feet hit the cold floor. She turned to tuck the covers under her younger sister, placing her pillow in her spot to prevent any rolling over and falling off the bed.

The hound bounded ahead of her, whining, and the other dogs, curled up together by the dying fireplace, all scrambled on their feet in a tangle of long limbs and noisy nails that clicked and scratched as they rushed to the door. She stepped quickly out of the way, crouching by the fireplace, nudging the embers to life, and setting more firewood, so when she came back inside, the cabin would be beginning to warm.

Brenioril shoved on her winter farm clothes and braced herself as she stepped outside, letting the dogs out first to prevent being bowled over by the eager bodies. The sky was just starting to lighten. At the barn door opening, Brenioril cracked it to let the dogs in if they chose to, animals began rousing for feeding time. The grass had a thin glaze of frozen dew over it, and the crunching and biting chill was a quick way to wake up her still drowsy brain.

The chicken’s feed was scattered, the clicking hens, and ornery roosters fluttering around her feet. She carefully stepped out, and fed both the sleepy, snorting pigs, and the irritable dairy cow, who immediately nudged her out of the way once the winter feed was in her pail. The two goats let out indignant wails seeing the other livestock getting their food, and jumped against their stall, the sheep waking to their loud calls and starting to voice their displeasure. She quickly fed both the sheep and goats, turning at the snort that sounded behind her and a thumping began in the next few stalls.

One slender head poked from the stall at her footsteps, nosing at her woolen overcoat and taking the hat off her head to fling it around. Brenioril chuckled, “Aye my sweet girl,” cooing at her. She scooped her mixture into the hanging pail, refilling her water pail and going to the hay storage above the stalls, scaling the ladder with ease. She pushed the bales off, climbing down and filling the hay manger. The stall next to her horse stood empty, her father and his horse partner off on patrol, the barn quieter than usual once the other livestock quieted, eating. His horse, temperamental and loud, would let everyone in the vicinity know it was time for his food, being the proud stallion he was. The other two, a pair of stocky plowing horses would wait with little snorts and whinnies, the both with very mellow personalities.

Feeding both affectionately, stroking their sides, sidestepping the gelding’s large hooves, and broad, tall body, checking the sawdust/shaving mixture on the stall floors in each stall, she did the routine checks and noting where would have to be cleaned. She enjoyed the final moments of quiet, going and leaning against her horse’s side, enjoying the warmth and sound of the animals eating, before she would have to go make the trek from the comfortable barn, bracing against the cold, to the house, where her mother was sure to be up, and cooking.

Clicking her tongue to two of the canines who were cuddled together on the barn floor, both got up to follow her.

Opening the door quickly, grimacing at the sickly grey color of the lightening dawn sky, Brenioril rushed to the house, stamping her boots on the deck, and peeled off her overcoat, entering the home. Warm air greeted her, as her mother turned. “Good morning _sell_. Have you finished in the barn?”

Brenioril nodded, leaning to give her mother a kiss on the cheek, awkwardly avoiding being bumped by her mother’s large belly. “Good morning _nana_. I will go see if Carwegon and Aleth are awake, and get them ready for the morning meal. The sky looks quite dark, do you think it will snow today?"

Her mother affectionately stroked her hair. “It is possible, wintertime is fast upon us. Go wake your siblings up and we shall prepare the best we can since your Adar and brother are not expected for the next week or so.”

Brenioril took the steps two at a time to where her siblings lay, still sleeping under the covers. She stuck her hand under the heavy quilt and tickled their feet. Both groaned, and the youngest, Aleth sat straight up, hair askew. She slid out of bed, and hugged her sister. “Al, wake up your brother.”

Going on her sister’s instruction, Aleth began to jump up and down on the bed, yelling, “Wake up, up, up, up, up, up!”

He groaned and sat up, eyes bleary, Aleth stopping her bouncing to plop into his lap.

Brenioril rushed to get both ready, the smell of yummy food beginning to waft up. The siblings raced down the stairs, Brenioril following slower behind them. Their meal sat on the table, the honeyed oatmeal, and buttered bread a welcome sight, individual bowls ready, their mother leaning over the fire, the large cooking pot used for soup being set to simmer.

The fast was broken quickly, food being shoveled into small mouths at an alarming rate. Aleth chatted between bites, Brenioril not getting a word in edgewise. Her brother was silent, not much for conversation early in the morning.

Brenioril was done first, depositing her utensils in the rinsing sink. She reached for the vegetables on the counter, wincing when a wooden spoon met her hand with a whack.

“Child, look at that dirt still on your clothes. Either go groom the horses, and let the animals out for a bit, or change into clean clothes and mind your siblings.”

Brenioril had no response until she set a chair by the sink, pushing her mother into it, bringing all she needed within reach. “ _Nana_ , sit. You know healer Istuieth will be quite cross if you overdo yourself.” Her mother acquiesced, Aleth clambering over, sitting near her feet, lugging her wooden toys along.

“Thank you, _sell_. Bring your brother to the barn for chores, he can lead the smaller animals.”

While Brenioril got her winter clothes on again, and her brother ran upstairs to get his, one of the dogs rose to go outside with her.

The dogs were fiercely protective of her and the younger children, a safety measure her father established. The dogs were trained with a few other litters to protect homesteads, each having a few, and others going with her father on patrol, along with the other Dúnedain. The dogs were large in height, with wiry coats, a loud bark, and the propensity to howl. They caught on more than one occasion predators preying on the barn animals, and assisted her father in tracking and hunting. They were fast, and were able to warn families of orcs when the animals would patrol with those in the villages who stayed behind. Brenioril was lucky enough to have Halbarad as her father, and the standing he had allowed her to participate in these, with more weathered Dúnedan, who stayed behind due to new or old injuries, sickness, or other situations prohibiting them from going into the wilds. They were supposed to receive new litters in the spring, increasing the amount due to increased reports of village attacks and reports of bands of orcs.


	3. To seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the plot thickens... A bolting horse, a close call, Aragorn, the sons of Elrond, and Halbarad make their appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadorant- faithful gift  
> Magoldir- Sword… man (sorry)  
>  Belan- Powerful gift  
> Tiron- to watch/gaze (male)
> 
> Here comes a little plot.... I'm sticking with the idea that elves patrolled with the rangers. Trying to type out chapters before because my life is so busy and hectic. Stay safe, wear masks, and wash your hands!

As the siblings let out the animals to the smaller paddock, and cleaned out the empty stalls, the wind picked up, and the sky grew darker. Shielding her face and rushing through the rest as they led the animals in, the last horse bolted at a loud bang as an unsecured stall door banged against the air rushing through the open barn door. 

Brenioril swore, telling her brother to go inside, and quickly jumped on her horse’s back, no time to grab the tack. Thankfully she spent much of summertime riding bareback and as Dúnedain horses were well trained and used elvish training methods, the pair were like a well oiled machine. 

She whistled for some dogs to join her, and they set off after the spooked gelding. The path they followed was one leading to a road off the settlement, which then eventually led to an outcrop of rocks, with plenty of hiding spaces, and slippery slopes. 

It took awhile for her to catch up, eventually finding him standing still at the edge of the forest, sides heaving, and snorting, backing away slowly. While they were coming closer, several of the hounds started growling deep in their chests, the sound causing Brenioril to pause. She dismounted quietly and crept to where the stocky horse stood, eyes starting to roll in fear as he backed away. One hand at his neck, Brenioril felt her stomach drop at the scene before her.

Orcs laid under an overhang, hiding from the clouds that laid a deep blanket of somber grey, inherently scared of the potential for the sun to seek through, not intelligent enough to realize that the clouds would not part for the sun, not today. They made a racket, rocky, rough voices, a crackling fire, and the telltale growls of wargs. 

The stench was horrifying. Brenioril gagged, and the dogs were rubbing their noses between their paws. Both horses huffed behind her, nervously shifting their hooves. She could tell both were ready to bolt, but since her horse stood with loyalty to her, the gelding stuck close by. 

A pebble flew by her ear, Brenioril whirling to find the source. In one of the trees, crouched on a tree was one of the twins. 

At her look of surprise, he lifted a finger to his lips and made his way down the tree to her, as Brenioril held a hand to the snarling dogs to back down. In a voice so light she had to train to hear he whispered, “Come, slowly through the deer trail. I will lead the gelding behind you.”

Brenioril nodded, and mounted  Sadorant, who pranced, settling at her urging. They set off down the deer trail, away from the orc encampment, towards one of the guard stations, miles away. The dogs stuck close to Sadorant, wary. Her father, the other son of Elrond, and Aragorn of all people, were talking to the two rangers posted at the stations. 

Her father at their approach headed to Sadorant, smacking  Brenioril on the thigh, gathering her into a tight hug after she dismounted. 

“What are you doing, Brenioril?” He scolded her, worry evident by the crease in his brows. 

She gestured to  the gelding, Belan, who cheekily nosed Halbarad’s tunic, unashamed. “Belan bolted while loading the other livestock back to their stalls. I had no choice but to chase after him. Thankfully he stopped at the forest edge, before we gathered the wrong attention.” She glanced around, not finding her older brother with the others. “Where’s Magoldir?”

Aragorn, now at her father’s side, spoke, “We met with a patrol from Rivendell, who is camped a mile away. We did not want to chance such a large camp, and attract unwanted attention. He is fetching them to eradicate the enemy camp together with us before they have a chance to attack at dusk. We destroyed another faction of orcs not far from here. Elladan was lucky enough to stumble upon you before they did.”

Brenioril felt her heart thud against her chest at the news. “So close to the village!” 

Her father kept her by his side, tensed. “I am tempted to send you back home, Brenioril, but I fear you will attract attention from any scouting orcs, under the forest cover. I can only spare one man to escort you. Have you no weapon on you?”

“Nay, I had no time before chasing Belan.” 

At that statement, She felt a dagger thrust in her hand. Elladan’s hand brushed against hers as he closed her fingers around the hilt. “Take this, and do not hesitate shall you need to use it. Orcs will wait for no opening, nor wait for you to make a move.” Elladan’s face was like stone, and his brother’s no less grave. She nodded, fingers starting to shake slightly. 

The younger of the rangers came to stand by her. She knew his face and name, Tiron, but otherwise had little interaction with him. He mounted Belan, the horse pinning his ears until Halbarad calmed him with a few words.

‘Go daughter, be quiet, be safe.” Halbarad helped her mount, sending one of the hounds to accompany her, whispering in the long shaggy ears, before he sent them off. 

She looked back as  Sadorant cantered away, following Tiron’s lead. Her father gave one wave, as he and Aragorn watched her ride away, the twins behind them.  Brenioril hoped that the favor of the Valar was upon them, and there would be no encounters. 


End file.
